


Live to Serve

by Vizkopa



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: F/M, Fingering, Smut, is Jakob OOC? I have no idea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 03:04:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8354431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vizkopa/pseuds/Vizkopa
Summary: You licked your lips again and this time you saw his eyes follow the movement. You grew bolder. “Kiss me,” you said.





	

You woke to a soft knock at the door to your chambers. The sky was dark outside your window and the fire in the hearth had burned down to embers. You had no idea what time it was, only that it appeared you had fallen asleep in your armour once again, face down in the various strategic maps and documents scattered across the tiny table. This had become a common occurrence in recent weeks. Sleep was always hard-won in times of war.

“Come in,” you called, trying and failing to mask the exhaustion in your voice.

The door clicked open and your butler, Jakob, entered carrying a large silver platter.

“I apologise for waking you, Lady [Name], but when you didn’t show up to dinner I thought you might be hungry.”

“Oh, Jakob, you didn’t have to. I’m not hungry.” The heavy burden of war had been weighing on you of late. Even just the thought of food made your stomach turn. But you couldn’t deny the smell that wafted into your room was torture on your empty stomach.

“Nonsense, you need to eat. You have to keep your strength up in times such as these.”

You could not deny he was right and you resolved to try, just for him. “Yes, of course. Thank you, Jakob.” 

He set the platter down in front of you, rolling up the maps and setting them back in their places on your shelves. He then busied himself with stoking the fire and lighting new candles. Soon, he had a cheery, glowing atmosphere filling the room and you felt just a little of the sleepy fog lift from your mind. You sighed contentedly as you breathed in the aroma of the food. He had kept it warm for you.

“You are too good to me, Jakob,” you sighed.

“I am merely doing my job, milady,” he said and you did not press the subject. That man could be frustratingly humble.

He began tidying the room while you ate. He paused as he noted that your bed had not been slept in but chose to say nothing, fluffing the pillows and straightening the duvet as if nothing were amiss. But you knew he worried about you. He had devoted his life to you, followed you even through your most questionable decisions. He was far more than you deserved.

When you had finished eating (though you’d only managed a few bites) he took the plate away and returned with a steaming kettle in his hands.

“Would you like me to brew you some tea, milady?”

“That sounds lovely. Will you join me?”

“It would be my pleasure, milady.” He busied himself with the tea, setting two porcelain teacups down on the table between you. “I’ve whipped up a special blend just for you. Chamomile and valerian root to help relieve stress and promote a good night’s rest.”

He poured the tea, first for you then for himself, before taking his seat opposite you at the table. You inhaled the fragrant aroma of the brew. No matter the blend, the scent always had a calming effect on you. It smelled of familiarity. Of home.

“Thanks you, Jakob,” you said. “For everything.”

“No need, milady.”

The two of you sat in silence for a time, but as you watched Jakob over the rim of your teacup, it became increasingly apparent that he had something urgent to say, but was simply too polite to say it.

“Go on, out with it.”

He jumped slightly. “I don’t know what you mean, milady,” he said hurriedly, burying his nose in his tea only to cough and sputter when he inevitably scalded his tongue on its contents.

“I’ve known you practically my whole life, I can tell when something is wrong.” You place your teacup down in front of you and leaned forward, catching and holding his gaze with yours. “So, out with it. Or do I have to command you?”

He seemed to struggle with himself for a long time, but finally the dam burst. “Forgive me if I am out of line, Lady [Name], I don’t want to burden you any more than you already are,” he rushed. “But it would be disloyal of me to stay silent any longer.”

“You can tell me anything, Jakob.”

He laughed nervously. “You may change your mind once you’ve heard what I have to say.”

You gestured for him to continue.

“I’ve been by your side for a long time now. We’ve been through many a trailing time, seen each other at our worst.” He swallowed, fingering the handle of his teacup awkwardly and it rattled in the saucer as his hands shook. “I think,” he went on, “that somewhere along the way, my feelings for you may have become more than just the feelings between master and servant.”

“Jakob…”

He placed his tea aside and held up his hand, seeming to grow bolder now that the heaviest weight was gone from his shoulders. “I understand if you don’t reciprocate those feelings. How could you? I am, after all, just a butler.” He leaned across the table and hesitantly took your hands in his. They were surprisingly warm. “But I want you to know, there is no limit to what I would do for you, Lady [Name]. My heart, my soul, _my body_ are all at your disposal.”

“Oh.” You felt the prick of tears in the corners of your eyes. “I could not have asked for a more loyal companion, Jakob, and for that I thank you. And while I do think we share more than just the bond between servant and employer, I can’t give you what you want.” You released your hands from his hold and turned away.

“My Lady, you misunderstand me. I am not asking you to return my feelings; I cannot expect that of you. I am merely offering you my services. Ordinarily, I would insist on resigning as your butler immediately. It is improper for me to have feelings of this nature toward my employer, after all. But I know how difficult it must be to make the decisions you have made, to be at war with your family. You need me now more than ever and I cannot bear the thought of leaving your side for my own selfish reasons. If I can assist you in any way, be it on the battlefield or…” He paused, contemplating his next words carefully. “In a more private setting… I am here for you.”

You gaped at him. You could not deny you had been craving a distraction of late, something to relieve the tension in your shoulders and banish the weariness from your bones. And Jakob _was_ handsome…

“I’ve noticed how tense and stressed you’ve been of late.” He reached forward and cupped your face in his hand. “Just say the words and I will do anything you ask of me.” He traced the edge of your draw, fingers trailing down your neck and coming to rest over your heart. You felt it leap beneath his hand. His voice lowered. “ _Anything,_ ” he reiterated. He gazed intently into your eyes, before he focused his attention on your trembling lips.

You wet them, suddenly parched and gasping for air. You swallowed. “Anything?” you asked.

He nodded.

You licked your lips again and this time you saw his eyes follow the movement. You grew bolder. “Kiss me,” you said. You were surprised at the sudden huskiness of your voice.

Jakob’s eyes darkened. “I thought you’d never ask, milady,” he said, before leaning forward and capturing your mouth with his own.

His lips were soft and patient, moving against yours in languid, slow motions. He held you face gently in his hands, fingers splayed out in your hair and thumbs smoothing over the pink flushed skin of your cheeks. When his tongue darted out to ask entrance, you gave it to him willingly, a soft moan escaping the depths of your throat.

You pulled away suddenly, eyes averted, cheeks aflame, and stood, making your way to the centre of the room.

Jakob’s face fell. “I’m sorry, milady, I should not have been so forward—”

You took a deep breath and turned. “Help me remove my armour.”

The crestfallen look on his face turned to one of surprise, then of realisation, then of something darker—fervent and eager to please. “As you wish, mistress” he said.

He started on your vambraces, deft fingers working quickly at the buckles and straps, and placed them aside before starting on the pauldrons. You helped him as best you could, eager to be free of the confining plate armour, but he only chuckled and continued at a steady pace. He was working you up and at this rate you would be a hot mess by the time he’d even got to undressing you properly.

Off came the pauldrons along, then he moved to the buckles of your breastplate, snapping them open one by one with practiced ease. He ran his fingers over the chinks and scratches in the plate from your last skirmish, frowning slightly in concern at each one before moving on. You cursed the plate armour for robbing you of the feel of his touch. You wondered if he’d run his fingers over your scars like that, worry lines etched in his brow, before leaning down to kiss each one. You cursed your armour once more. 

_Why must it take so long?!_

The plate lifted easily from your chest and was placed aside. Then Jakob dropped to his knees before you and your breath caught in your throat. You could not deny you liked seeing him in that position. He peered up at you curiously and you suddenly became aware of the increase in your breathing, the heat burning in your cheeks that seemed to originate deep down in your core.

He seemed to sense the urgency in your eyes for he made quick work of your greaves, and as soon as you had kicked them off, you took his hand and pulled him to his feet.

“Undress me.”

He blushed. “It would be an honour, milady.”

His hands shook as he peeled the tunic from your shoulders and every time his fingers accidentally brushed your skin, it felt as if they left a trail of fire in their wake. But it was nothing compared to when his lips found the pulse point in your neck and proceeded downward, stopping to nibble lightly at your collarbones before continuing down between your breasts. Then he was back on his knees, fingers hooked in the waistband of your pants.

He paused for just a moment, looking to you for permission which you quickly granted him with a curt nod, then began to drag them slowly down your thighs. His touch burned like wildfire and you felt almost disappointed when his hands left you as he stepped back to give you room to step out of the garment. But the most anticipated part was yet to come.

You watched his eyes widen as he took you in, a red flush spreading from his cheeks to his ears and down his neck. His mouth hung open slightly in awe. 

You chuckled nervously, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Are you going to just stand there and stare at me all night?”

His eyes snapped back to yours. “I could spend eternity admiring such an exquisite form, milady,” he said softly. “But of course, tonight is for you, not me.”

He strode forward with purpose and swept you up in his arms, carrying you bridal-style towards the bed as if you weighed nothing at all. He laid you down gently and you immediately reached up to pull him into another kiss, tugging almost desperately at his clothes, but he stopped you with a finger to your lips.

“Please, my Lady, let me take care of you first.”

You let your arms drop to your sides, pouting as he carefully removed his gloves and placed them aside. He loosened his ascot, letting it join his gloves at the foot of the bed and unbuttoned his shirt just enough so that a sliver of smooth, pale skin teased you.

You rubbed your legs together impatiently, hoping to relieve some of the tension that had been building since he’d first kissed you. He stilled you with a hand on your thigh. Then, slowly, his eyes never leaving yours, he parted your knees and settled himself between them. You wanted to wrap your legs around his waist and hold him against your body, feel that friction you were craving, but you were curious to see what he would do when you surrendered control over to him.

“Jakob,” you breathed. “Make me feel good.”

“I live to serve, my Lady,” he said in a voice that sent shudders through your entire being.

He hovered over you, lips tauntingly close you yours, hands pressed into the pillow beside your head. His eyes traced your features for a moment, then he lifted a hand to let his slender fingers smooth down your side and over your stomach, only to have it come to a stop at the junction of your thighs. All the while he watched for your reaction.

You felt your breath catch in your throat, bated in anticipation. The tiny quirk of his mouth told you he noticed and he continued with his slow torture, caressing your thighs, straying dangerously close to where you so badly wanted him to be but never lingering long. Then, when he had driven you to near breaking point, he let a single finger swipe over your folds.

Your body tensed, mouth falling open in a low moan that was cut short when his thumb brushed your clit. Your hands flew to his shirt, fingers twisting in the crisp fabric as a shudder ran through you. His fingers danced away again and you arched your back, pushing your hips up into his hand to urge him onward, chasing after that delicious sensation.

Finally, he obliged and pushed a single, slender digit inside you. He stilled as he waited for you to adjust and you bucked your hips impatiently in response. 

He gave a hoarse chuckle. “My mistress is impatient,” he scolded.

“And you’re a tease,” you growled.

He only laughed in response and began an even pace, the slow glide of his finger inside you almost lazy, but it drove you insane nonetheless. When he had you writhing and begging him for more, he added a second finger, curling them toward him in a beckoning motion that stoked the growing heat that was now pooling low in your belly. The heel of his hand ground against your clit and in conjunction with his fingers, you were on the verge of overstimulation.

Jakob’s breath was cool against your face. His lips brushed yours every now and then, but for the most part he only wanted to watch your face contort in pleasure, your lips—swollen from where your teeth had silenced the needy moans you didn’t want him to hear—part erotically in a gasp, and the arch of your neck as you threw your head back and clung to him as the peak of your climax hit.

It hit you slow and _hard_ , a great tide that flooded your body with warmth and tiny, electric ripples that pulsed in time with your pounding heart and the clenching of your walls. A long, drawn out moan escaped your throat, and then the ripples faded away to nothing and you fell back against the sheets, body spent and shaking with exhaustion.

Jakob withdrew his fingers carefully, smiling apologetically as you winced from the sensitivity. Your arms felt heavy, but still you reached for him, working clumsily at the buttons of his shirt, now creased and crumpled from your treatment earlier. He gave a breathy chuckle and laid a hand over yours to still your movement.

“Don’t worry about me tonight, milady. You’re exhausted.”

“But—” you began to protest, but you were interrupted by a wide yawn.

He chuckled again. “My case in point. Sleep now. I will be here when you wake up, tomorrow and every day after.”

Your heart fluttered at his words. But before you could contemplate what that meant for you, you felt the heavy fog of sleep settle over you and you were gone.


End file.
